


No One Knows

by ashisfriendly



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, F/M, One Night Stands, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 03:04:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5480930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashisfriendly/pseuds/ashisfriendly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt, more or less: Ron and Ann have a one night stand</p>
            </blockquote>





	No One Knows

Ann is four cocktails drunk when Ron steps up to the bar next to her. 

His jaw is clenched as he puts his glass down with purpose. Ron moves this way constantly, like a man that knows exactly what he wants, a sure man, a man who has a rugged sort of tunnel vision. It bothers Leslie a lot, which is understandable, but for a woman who doesn’t have to have Ron as a boss, it is quite sexy.

She’s thought this before, not just tonight, with alcohol buzzing through her, but it does add to the intensity of feeling, and it does make her say hello to him.

“Hello,” he says back. If she wasn’t paying attention she would’ve missed the quick slide of his gaze to her before he looked back at the bartender. 

He gets his drink replaced with a nod of thanks, but he doesn’t move. He sips next to her, lips wet with whiskey. Ann’s cheeks are burning so she darts her stare away from him, sipping her drink through the black straw. 

Ann can’t decide if she’s lonely, curious, or horny. Do all of those go together, are they fluid in meaning, in feeling? She’s unsure, but there is a hollow pit in her stomach that she’s been trying to fill, and there’s of course the assurance in everything Ron does that can only lend to sexual curiosity, and then there’s the familiar way the alcohol is lubing her up. She’s a fireball of tingly sensations and wild fantasies when she gets drunk. That’s why she touches everyone too much, that’s why her vibrator gets its most use after a fun night at a bar and she has no one to bring home.

The condensation on her glass feels good along her fingers so she rubs her thumb and forefinger together, letting it cool her. She gets the idea that it might help the blush spreading up her neck, so she dabs the water on the back of her neck.

Being drunk also, apparently, gives Ann super hearing because she hears Ron clear his throat, or groan, or some sound that Ann really wants to hear again. With her hand still on the back of her neck, she turns her head to look at him.

His eyes are on her this time, brown and sure, with a glaze of softness over them. His jaw is still clenched. He blinks and looks back at his glass, Ann does the same.

Ron clears his throat again, shifting his weight so that he’s closer to her. He’s radiating heat and there’s a smell to him, something naturally manly and classic in his deodorant, with a splash of whiskey. It does it for her -- fuck -- _he_ does it for her. What would Leslie say? If Leslie was having feelings for Ann’s boss, Leslie would text her right away and maybe send a few emails to make sure not only that it was okay, but to make a pros and cons list of why this could be a bad idea or a good idea and all potential outcomes spread out in a brainstorm web.

But Ann isn’t Leslie, and Ann doesn’t have feelings for Ron. She just really wants him to fuck the shit out of her.

Ann takes the straw out of her drink and throws back the rest of it, burning her throat, liquid slipping down her chin. She carefully wipes off her mouth and takes in a breath, ready to speak, but Ron does first.

“Are we leaving?”

“Yes,” she says.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t fight her on the idea of a taxi, but as soon as they climb into the backseat, she understands why.

Ron grabs her, pulling her over his lap. The skirt of her dress hikes up her thighs and his hands are on her bare skin before the taxi even pulls out of the parking lot. The driver asks where they’re going and Ann watches Ron’s face as he tells the driver exactly where he lives.

“Don’t repeat that to anyone,” he says, eyes shifting to her. 

Having this much direct attention from Ron is almost startling. She shivers and he holds onto her thighs, presses his fingers into her flesh as he pulls her dress up more. Ann just shakes her head in silent acknowledgement of his request and it must be good enough for him because he grabs her face and pulls her down for a kiss.

There’s no fireworks, no parade music, just something hot and dark in her gut that spreads out to the rest of her body like lava. His lips are soft, mustache rough, tongue deep and guiding in her mouth. He leads and she’s fine to follow, but when she pushes a little harder or opens his mouth a little wider, sounds filter from his throat that make her dizzy.

Ann rocks forward, and oh shit, he’s hard beneath her and if she’s feeling what she thinks she’s feeling, this night just got a lot more interesting. Her drunken curiosity gets the best of her and she pulls away, yanking at his belt, Ron’s lips finding space in the nape of her neck, just as the driver stops.

“Get out, hornballs.”

At first Ann thinks they’re getting kicked out of the cab, but Ron taps her thigh and she moves off of him so he can pay the driver. He pays him too much, doesn’t wait for change, and Ann follows him out.

His house is simple and cute, well taken care of with a nice lawn and an old tree in the front yard. The cab leaves and it’s incredibly quiet. They’re on the outskirts of town, close to Eagleton, in a wooded area. There’s a park nearby, she’s almost certain.

He stares at her, his hair a mess from their drive over, pants tight across his crotch in a way that makes Ann salivate. He lowers his chin, eyes dark, and then turns, walking toward the front door. Ann quickly follows, she follows him through the door, into the simple living room with plain, wooden furniture, a few photographs on the walls. She follows him down a short hallway and into a bedroom. 

His bedroom. 

Before she can properly take a tour, he has her, lifting her up so she can wrap her legs around his waist. He slams her back into the wall, it hurts but it doesn’t hurt enough all at the same time. He’s strong and sturdy, she doesn’t even hold onto him, her hands instead pull up his shirt and he presses her to the wall hard enough so she can take it off. There’s a rip and the front of her dress is open, his mouth all over her breasts without caution. It’s not sloppy, not at all, Ron still moves with purpose even with a pair of breasts in front of him. He groans and lets her down, removing the rest of her clothes until she’s standing in front of him completely naked.

She wishes he’d say something, but she knows he’s not a man of many words. It’s not as if his actions don’t speak for themselves. The dark, harsh tint to his eyes tells her he wants her, the way his hands carefully remove his belt and shuck off his pants and underwear is almost torture. He’s still strong, still sturdy even when he isn’t holding her up, because he still has a hold on her as she watches him undress. 

When he’s completely naked, shoes off and clothes kicked aside, her eyes go down, rounding in astonishment.

He’s not the biggest she’s ever seen, that still goes to that guy in college who she mostly whimpered underneath, but he’s just above the perfect length and she licks her lips as she slowly drops to her knees.

She can feel him inhale as her hands go over his thighs and snake up to his dick. She traces her fingers over him, circling his cockhead before sliding her fist down over the shaft. His hand goes into her hair, not with any force, in fact, it’s the lightest touch he’s given her all night.

Ann takes him in her mouth, slowly and as deep as she can, using her hand to help her. Her other hand slides all over his thighs, his balls, his dick, his ass. She bobs her head, circles her tongue, pushes against the underside of his dick like he’s the sweetest lollipop she’s ever had. He is quiet, but the shake in his fingers encourages her, the tremble in his thighs, and the uneven rhythm of his breaths makes her take him deeper. 

She works her way up to the hilt, it takes a few long strokes, some maneuvering and caution, but she gets him all the way in. When she does, he groans, sputtering a, “Fuck,” and tracing his thumb down her cheek, to her throat. She holds him in until he pulls her away, his dick popping out of her mouth, saliva falling down her chin and breaths aching to fill her lungs. He picks her up and kisses her, spit and all, carefully turning her around so he can place her on the bed. 

Ann bounces on the mattress and Ron is quick to crawl over her, pushing her legs open and evaluating her pussy like she’s a piece of wood he needs to carve. He leans down and licks her, traces her with harsh swipes of his tongue that make her back arch and toes curl. He’s holding her thighs open as he tastes her, mustache rough and tickling and adding just the friction she needs. 

Unlike Ron, she’s loud and whimpering, whining in high notes and cursing in lows. He licks her thighs and kisses her lips and fucks her with his tongue, but each move doesn’t last long, almost like he’s rushing. She growls.

“You can just fuck me if that’s what you want,” she says, surprised not only at her ability to get out so many words while Ron’s tongue fucks her like that, but also at her frank request. 

He stops and she sees his tongue flat against her clit, eyes staring at her. He slowly gets up, Ann’s heart racing against her chest, ringing in her ears, her cunt pulsing for him again. He goes to a drawer in his dresser, pulls out a condom and smooths his hand over his dick a few times before sliding it on. Ann can’t control the sounds coming out of her, but everytime she makes another one, he touches himself again, and Ann can’t feel embarrassed even if she wanted to.

Ron sits on the bed and Ann makes room for him. He sits up straight, his back against the headboard, and looks at her, moving his gaze to his dick as if it wasn’t clear what he wanted her to do. She crawls over to him, straddles him, and lets Ron help guide her. 

Her fingernails dig into his shoulders as she sinks onto him. He fills her up, stretches her in beautiful torture. They both breathe a little when he’s fully inside her, but soon Ron moves her hips and Ann can’t help but follow.

He is more vocal now, each roll of her hips pushing out a grunt, a groan, a moan. They tangle in her hair, sink into the skin of her neck, along her collarbone. He pushes her back a little so he can lick her breasts, roll her nipples between his teeth, kiss and suck on any piece of flesh he can reach. He bites into her collarbone and she’s sure she’s going to have to wear a high collared shirt tomorrow. But she continues to ride, feels his dick hit the perfect spot inside of her over and over again. He responds in earnest, pushing up into her to meet each thrust of hers and she can’t help screaming when they keep aligning perfectly. 

She’s getting close, a rare deep, hot closeness that doesn’t happen with sex alone that often. Ron is growling now, kissing her lips and her cheeks, sometimes biting into her neck. She tells him she’s going to come and he responds in a way that no man usually does: he switches positions.

She groans, frustrated, as Ron flips her down onto her back. He pushes her legs up to his shoulders and sinks into her. She gasps at the new depth. 

“How flexible are you?” he asks. The complete directness of his sentence and the lack of groaning or curse words is a little jarring.

“I don’t know? Average?” she says between breaths.

He shakes his head, unbelieving, then presses her legs back toward her head, slowly. She’s spread open, Ron’s dick deep inside her, her legs bending back to expose her more and more. It isn’t until her knees almost reach her face that she makes a soft noise of protest. He stops, pulls her legs back a little, and then fucks her.

He’s deep and rough and fast. She tries to find purchase anywhere, along the sheets, on his body, in the pillows, in her hair, but she can’t find it. He’s loud now, roaring with groans and curse words, her name even slips out between his teeth which makes her scream. Her body feels numb and like it’s feeling everything hot and raw all at the same time. His cock hits her deep, and when he sits back a little, her legs still close to her head, he is at that spot again, just like before, except this time it’s so much fucking better.

“Yes!” she yells, because no fucking way is he taking this away from her again.

He doesn’t relent at all, only fucks her harder, faster, grips her legs in a way that will most definitely leave bruises. Ann cries out, keeps telling him to go faster even though she’s sure it’s impossible but it just feels so good. So unbelievably good. She arches her back and watches him as he drives into her, sweat dripping down his face, his strong and sure stare hot on her and she forces herself to watch him the entire time, even as her body stiffens and her orgasm rolls out of her, making her cry out and scream, and convulse. The stars, she sees them now.

She tries to push him away with her feet now that he’s let go of her legs but he doesn’t move, only keeps fucking her as his own orgasm builds. She gives up, lets her legs fall and he clamps his thumb to her clit and rubs her in precise circles that get her climbing again in no time. She yells, “Fuck,” as she comes again and when he just fucks her harder, she covers her face and whimpers at the sensitive friction until his own orgasm makes him grip her waist and yell out his own string of curse words.

Ron falls, slipping out of her and rolling onto his back beside her. She can hear him moving to clean himself up and dispose of the condom, but he settles into bed quickly. There is a long, tired, comfortable pause between them. Ann can already feel the bruises forming, the stiffness starting in her muscles that will follow her through until tomorrow. But she also feels sleepy, so incredibly sleepy. A lot of guys call her a “dude” because she likes to sleep after sex.

Ron rolls toward her, placing his hand on her stomach. She jumps a little but it is nice. He’s very warm.

“No one knows.”

Ann nods, her eyelids heavy. “No one knows.”

“Sleep here, we’ll do it again in the morning.”

She smiles a little, the darkness of sleep pulling her down. A simple, honest request from a man who always knows what he wants. Who is she to say no?

“Okay.”

Ron pulls up a quilt and covers them both, his hand back on her stomach. He starts to snore and Ann, content and fucked, joins him.


End file.
